Andrea Gibson died this week after four years of living with cancer. Their words remain.
Gibson was not only a poet but also a cultural voice for
people navigating illness, identity, grief, and love. They gave language to
topics many people avoid—language that was clear, compassionate, and deeply
human. They didn't try to romanticize death. Instead, they treated it as a part
of life that deserves attention, presence, and care.
At Empath Health, we are working to build a more open and
thoughtful conversation around dying. Most people aren't ready to name death
when it arrives, and many struggle to speak about it even when it's already
part of their lives. Andrea Gibson created space for that conversation. They
didn't simplify or soften it. They stood within it.
Since their passing, one of Andrea's most beloved poems, Love
Letter from the Afterlife, has been widely shared again. Andrea wrote it in
2023 while preparing to speak to older adults who had lost spouses and
partners. They said the inspiration came from their Grandma Faye, who told
Andrea, after her death, that she was more present than ever before.
"Dying is the opposite of leaving," Gibson writes.
"I am more with you than I ever was before."
The poem doesn't attempt to provide comfort in the usual
way. It does not resolve grief or explain it. Instead, it reflects what many
people already know: that the people we've loved don't simply disappear. They
remain—sometimes in small routines, sometimes in memory, and sometimes in the
kind of presence that defies logic but still feels real.
"Ask me the altitude of heaven, and I will answer, 'How tall
are you?'"
At Empath, we are committed to using language that honors
these truths. We want to speak plainly and with care. We want to make room for
people to grieve without rushing through it, and to feel connected to those
they've lost, however that connection shows up.
Andrea Gibson's poetry reminds us that talking about dying isn't the end of hope. It's often the beginning of deeper connection.
"I know it's hard to believe, but I promise it's the truth.
I promise one day you will say it too—
I can't believe I ever thought I could lose you."
Andrea's death is a loss, but their work continues to
accompany those navigating grief, loss, and love.
To learn more about how Empath Health supports individuals
and families through grief and loss, visit our Grief Services page.
LOVE LETTER FROM THE AFTERLIFE
By Andrea Gibson
My love, I was so wrong. Dying is the opposite of
leaving. When I left my body, I did not go away. That portal of light was not a
portal to elsewhere, but a portal to here. I am more here than I ever was
before. I am more with you than I ever could have imagined. So close you look
past me when wondering where I am. It's Ok. I know that to be human is to be
farsighted. But feel me now, walking the chambers of your heart, pressing my
palms to the soft walls of your living.
Why did no one tell us that to die is to be reincarnated
in those we love while they are still alive? Ask me the altitude of heaven, and
I will answer, "How tall are you?" In my back pocket is a love note with every
word you wish you'd said. At night I sit ecstatic at the loom weaving
forgiveness into our worldly regrets. All day I listen to the radio of your
memories. Yes, I know every secret you thought too dark to tell me, and love
you more for everything you feared might make me love you less.
When you cry I guide your tears toward the garden of
kisses I once planted on your cheek, so you know they are all perennials.
Forgive me, for not being able to weep with you. One day you will understand.
One day you will know why I read the poetry of your grief to those waiting to
be born, and they are all the more excited. There is nothing I want for now
that we are so close I open the curtain of your eyelids with my own smile every
morning.
I wish you could see the beauty your spirit is right now
making of your pain, your deep seated fears playing musical chairs, laughing
about how real they are not. My love, I want to sing it through the rafters of
your bones, Dying is the opposite of leaving. I want to echo it through the
corridor of your temples, I am more with you than I ever was before.
Do you understand? It was me who beckoned the stranger who caught you in her arms when you forgot not to order for two at the coffee shop. It was me who was up all night gathering sunflowers into your chest the last day you feared you would never again wake up feeling lighthearted. I know it's hard to believe, but I promise it's the truth. I promise one day you will say it too—I can't believe I ever thought I could lose you.